


After Eights

by sockpuppeteer



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockpuppeteer/pseuds/sockpuppeteer
Summary: The hour just after dinner is Eggsy’s favourite time of day. It isn’t that he doesn’t love waking up beside Harry in the morning – or, more accurately, either waking up with Harry’s side of the bed cool and neat where the other man has already risen, showered, and made a pot of tea, or with Harry leaning over him and pressing hot kisses down his throat, when they don’t have anywhere to be. It isn’t that he doesn’t love making breakfast while Harry checks in with Merlin and reads the paper, dancing around the kitchen in animal-slash-flag-slash-obnoxiously-bright-pink-printed boxers (Eggsy, that is, not Harry, although Eggsy would pay good money to see that). That also makes him sound horribly fucking domesticated, but what’s even weirder than someone being able to turn Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin into some form of house husband is that Eggsy doesn’t even care.





	After Eights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hangmans_Radio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hangmans_Radio/gifts).



> not beta'd, don't shoot me D: but please let me know of any glaring errors and I will fix them! :D

The hour just after dinner is Eggsy’s favourite time of day. It isn’t that he doesn’t love waking up beside Harry in the morning – or, more accurately, either waking up with Harry’s side of the bed cool and neat where the other man has already risen, showered, and made a pot of tea, or with Harry leaning over him and pressing hot kisses down his throat, when they don’t have anywhere to be. It isn’t that he doesn’t love making breakfast while Harry checks in with Merlin and reads the paper, dancing around the kitchen in animal-slash-flag-slash-obnoxiously-bright-pink-printed boxers (Eggsy, that is, not Harry, although Eggsy would pay good money to see that). That also makes him sound horribly fucking domesticated, but what’s even weirder than someone being able to turn Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin into some form of house husband is that Eggsy doesn’t even  _care._

And it isn’t that he doesn’t love any other time of day, like being called into a briefing and getting to wind Merlin up across the long conference table, or training in the fucking humungous gym in Harry’s basement, or going for lunch and holding Harry’s hand across the table, at the same time both ignoring and basking in the glances they receive from other patrons when they realise the pair sat across the aisle from them aren’t, in fact, father and son.

 

Alright, so there are a lot of things that seem to crop up during the day that Eggsy particularly enjoys, okay, but.  _But._ It’s the hour just after dinner that is his  _favourite_. They retire, as Harry still insists on calling it, to the living room and curl up on the couch together, JB inevitably squirming up onto Harry’s lap, and as much as Harry protests, he always lets him park his puggy little behind there whilst one of them chooses what they’re going to watch on telly. It never matters what they pick, because they both know where the evening is going, but they continue with the charade all the same. Harry lifts an arm for Eggsy to settle beneath, the remote sat on his knees where he’s pulled them up onto the sofa and tucked them beneath himself, wriggling his toes into the nice, squishy gap between the arm of the sofa and the cushions. Harry had chided him about it, reminding him why socks exist and, if Eggsy wore them more often, maybe they wouldn’t need to polish the kitchen and hall floor tiles quite so often, but he’d been trailing his fingers along the arch of Eggsy’s bare foot at the time, and then he’d taken Eggsy’s little toe into his mouth and Eggsy had had more pressing things on his mind after that.

 

Anyway. Movie chosen and cuddles ensuing, somewhere between the opening credits and the introduction of some kind of villain or plot point or murder victim, Eggsy will start finger-walking across Harry’s thigh, and this part here,  _this_  is what makes it Eggsy’s favourite, because it’s not like they limit themselves to sex after dinner, but it’s unlikely that anyone will disturb them this late in the day, and after the first – or maybe second – time, Merlin learned not to drop in on Harry’s feed unannounced. Eggsy’s finger walking will either encourage Harry to mutter at him to behave himself, like a  _good boy_ , which just gets Eggsy going, or he’ll spread his legs a little in invitation – either way, Eggsy wins. He’ll climb into Harry’s lap, dislodging JB, who has given up even whining at them for it now and retreats to his basket beside the coffee table instead. The next part can go one of a few ways – one, Harry lets Eggsy tip him into a kiss, soft and eager and  _easy_. Two, Harry will tip  _Eggsy_  into a kiss, and somewhere along the way Eggsy will end up on his back on the sofa, or on the floor or, one time, the coffee table itself, which JB hadn’t been terribly happy about either. Or three, and Eggsy is particularly fond of this one, although he’ll never tell Harry – Harry will lay a finger on Eggsy’s lips and hold him back. Tonight, it seems, is one of those nights.

 

“Patience, my boy,” Harry murmurs, and Eggsy’s stomach does a happy little flip. If anyone had told him before his recruitment that he’d end up being some old, posh git’s  _boy_ , he’d probably have punched them in the face, but when that old posh git is Harry Hart, Eggsy really, really doesn’t give a shit. Fuck, he loves the way people look at them, the way they judge them and wonder just what someone as young and pretty as Eggsy – because he knows he’s pretty, alright, sue him – sees in someone old enough to be his father, and then some. It always makes him want to blow them a kiss and explain, in graphic detail, how fantastic the sex is, just to see them blush, but he doesn’t. Normally, he’ll settle for kissing Harry stupid in the middle of the street with plenty of tongue until they turn away. Normally.

 

Instead of behaving – because Eggsy knows how much Harry loves it when he’s a little shit – Eggsy sucks Harry’s finger into his mouth and quirks his eyebrows as if to say  _who, me_? and sees Harry draw in a little breath that means, despite his outwardly cool composure, Eggsy’s definitely getting to him.

 

“ _Eggsy_ ,” Harry says, his tone low with warning, and oh, yeah, that’s the way Eggsy likes it. He licks his lips and pushes a little harder, just a little, sinking his teeth into the soft pad, the flicks it with his tongue. Harry tastes of the garlic and chilli he’d been cooking with, sweat and a kind of musky sweetness that always seems to linger on Harry’s skin unless he’s just stepped out of the shower. Eggsy’s spent an almost ridiculous amount of time thinking about it and has come to the conclusion that it must be some kind of combination of the oil from Harry’s skin, hand soap, a little saliva from where he licks his finger to turn the pages of his book – plus, of course, a little ink and residue from the book itself - and the oil from his hair where he runs his hand through it after a particularly long day. It all sounds pretty fucking disgusting, but on Harry’s skin it tastes  _great_ , so Eggsy isn’t exactly about to complain.

 

He isn’t about to complain about Harry’s reaction to Eggsy’s tongue on his finger, either. The older man’s eyes flash and quicker than Eggsy can blink, Harry’s got him on his back on the sofa, pressed firmly into the cushions with a hand around the base of his throat. It’s not quite pushing, not yet, but the threat is clear. If Eggsy pushes him tonight, Harry can – and will – put Eggsy in his place. Eggsy shivers all over.  _Fuck_ , he loves it when Harry’s in this kind of mood, the mood to control, to domineer and tell Eggsy what to do, leaving no room for him to disobey. It might not seem it from the outside, but Eggsy fucking  _loves_ Harry telling him what to do. He loves  _doing_  it even more, loves the look of wonder he can put in Harry’s eyes when he just drops to his knees, soft and boneless and ready for Harry to take from. It gets Harry hot, having Eggsy do as he’s told, that he knows for sure. Eggsy’s such a little shit to everyone else, Harry included sometimes, and Eggsy knows Harry gets off  _hard_  on being the one to tame him, even if he’s never said as much in proper words. There’s plenty else that gets Harry off too – Eggsy knows that from experience – but this is the way it’s gonna go down tonight.

 

“Yeah, Harry?” Eggsy replies, as blasé as he can manage. It’s not going to fool Harry for a second – Eggsy’s too breathless for that – but Harry raises one careful eyebrow all the same, presses down a little on the hand around Eggsy’s throat.

 

“If you can’t bring yourself to behave, my boy, maybe you should get on the floor like a good little pup.” Harry tells him, voice low and soft just the way Eggsy loves it. His pronunciation is as impeccable as ever, his Eaton – or Oxford or fucking Cambridge, how the fuck is Eggsy supposed to know? – accent kicked up a notch by the desire swimming in his eyes. His voice doesn’t give any of it away, could be talking about the fucking headlines for all anyone else knows, and fuck, that gets Eggsy hot too, the way Harry is so nonchalant about it, like he really doesn’t care. Like he’s just indulging Eggsy’s whims when really he could be making dinner or shaving or hanging from his ankles from a fucking skyscraper right now for all it matters to him. He knows Harry’s done it before, too.

 

Lust twists in Eggsy’s gut and he writhes in Harry’s hold. He considers biting back,  _maybe you should put me there_ , but no, that’s not the game they’re playing tonight. He wants to be good now that Harry is nice and riled, wants to show Harry just what a  _good little pup_  he can be. The first time the name had come into play, Harry had looked surprised at the word leaving his lips, but before he could hurry to apologise and take it back, Eggsy had groaned and come all  over himself. Obviously, the name had stuck. 

 

Eggsy blinks up at Harry obediently and the older man sits up, giving him the slack he needs to slither out of his grip and onto the floor. He slides easily to his knees in one boneless motion, letting Harry slip his shirt over his head on the way, because pups don’t get to wear clothes. They leave his jeans on, but only because the sight of Eggsy’s tanned, muscled torso on display his broad shoulders tapering into his waist, spine curved elegantly down and halted by the line of denim at his waist, makes Harry’s mouth water. Eggsy might spend more time than he really needs to waltzing around Harry’s house half-dressed after his showers, messy wet hair dripping all over his skin and the carpet, just so he can feel Harry’s fingers or, on a really good day, his mouth, pressed to the little dip at the base, the same place his sweat pools when they fuck.

 

Harry spends a while after that just stroking Eggsy’s hair, looking to an observer as if nothing was amiss, but from his vantage point, Eggsy has the perfect view of the swell of Harry’s erection beneath the cotton of his pyjama bottoms. His training had done wonders for his patience, and knowing Harry was as ready for this as him was all Eggsy needed to stay still at Harry’s feet, waiting until Harry decides it’s time to retire to the bedroom and kick things up a notch. Tonight though, it seems, isn’t going to be one of those nights, because already Eggsy can see Harry’s hands moving to his waistband. He slides his bottoms off, pushing them down to his ankles where he kicks them off then tips his chin towards Eggsy.

 

Eggsy’s eyes are drawn to the length of Harry’s cock, more than half hard already, and he leans in eagerly. Harry’s freshly showered, more’s the pity. As gross as it sounds, Eggsy loves the smell of Harry after a long day, all musk and sweat and heat, loves to bury his noise in the crease where his thigh meets his groin and lick, taste the day on his skin and- oh,  _fuck_. He really  _is_  like a fucking puppy. Eggsy snorts, which makes Harry raise an eyebrow in question, but Eggsy just smirks and takes him between his lips. He tastes like clean skin, at least until Eggsy dips his tongue below Harry’s foreskin, and although it’s still not just the way he likes it, there  _is_  a lingering hint of Harry’s musky, male taste there that makes him groan.

 

Harry sighs, soft and breathy, and slides his fingers through Eggsy’s hair. “Something amuse you, darling?”

 

Eggsy, not particularly wanting to move enough to use his words, shrugs one shoulder and takes Harry a little deeper into his mouth, sucking with purpose now.  He sees Harry slump a little, settling more comfortably into the sofa cushions, and feels the fingers twitch in his hair. He pushes back into the touch and glances up through his eyelashes to meet Harry’s eyes, watches Harry’s go dark in response, and sinks a little deeper, goading Harry silently. There’s the briefest, quietest hint of a growl, and then Harry’s taking control, holding Eggsy firmly and sliding further into his mouth until Eggsy’s jaw is stretched wide. He groans when the head nudges at his throat, eyes fluttering, and makes himself go limp, letting Harry finish pushing inside until Eggsy can feel the tickle of hair against his cheeks and the swell of cock down his throat. Harry holds him there for a moment, the order clear, then lets him go. Eggsy, eager to be good, stays put, obediently suffocating himself on Harry’s cock. His eyes begin to water and his throat clenches, trying to dislodge the intrusion, but Harry has spent a lot of time training Eggsy for this - if only Merlin knew, Eggsy thinks, would laugh if he could – and Eggsy doesn’t move, just stares up at Harry with soft green eyes, making them all wide and innocent, just the way Harry likes.

 

“Fuck,” Harry sighs, touching Eggsy’s cheek lightly, as if checking he’s real. Eggsy loves it when he can make Harry curse like that, the way he only does when he’s either really pissed, or  _really_  horny. “Good  _boy_ , Eggsy.” He looks as filled with wonder as he always does, as if Eggsy submitting to him like this never gets old, and Eggsy can kind of understand that, because submitting to Harry still hasn’t gotten old, not yet. He hopes it never does, because he adores that look in Harry’s eyes when he looks at him. His throat constricts again, warning him that if he doesn’t move soon, he’s going to suffocate, or worse, throw up, but still Eggsy doesn’t move, entranced by Harry’s warm gaze. It’s Harry who saves him, apparently knowing Eggsy’s limits better than he knows himself, and the older man eases himself out slowly until just the tip is still in Eggsy’s mouth. Eggsy sucks in a desperate, heaving breath and coughs, throat burning, and then Harry’s back, pushing deeper and deeper until Eggsy’s eyes start to water. They set a rhythm together after that, Harry’s eyes burning into Eggsy’s as he screwed his throat with exactly the same kind of calm determination Eggsy had watched him take down a group of armed soldiers with, or snap a man’s neck with his bare hands. It gets him off hard that Harry has that kind of strength, that he could take Eggsy down when they’re like this without even breaking stride. It had almost happened once – Eggsy had fallen asleep on the sofa and had been sneaking up to bed, trying not to wake Harry. As soon as he’d set a hand on the quilt to pull it back and slide in, he’d blinked, and opened his eyes again with Harry’s forearm against his throat, choking the life out of him. His eyes had been dark and unfocussed, a coldness to them that shook Eggsy to his very core, and by the time he’d collected his wits enough to retaliate, he was starting to run out of air. It was only thanks to plenty of time spent training as a kid with his head shoved down the school toilets that Harry didn’t manage to actually choke him out before Eggsy could get a sharp kick in to his shins. Harry had blinked and shuddered, then leapt off Eggsy’s body like it burned him to touch, and scuttled back off the bed into the corner when Eggsy tried to reach for him. Apparently not even Kingsman could break Harry of that particular little sliver of PTSD, and he’d spent fucking  _months_  apologising to Eggsy for it despite Eggsy’s attempts to show him that, actually, he’d sort of enjoyed it. That’s where this had all started, if he’s really thinking about it, when Eggsy realised he got off on Harry overpowering him – because apparently the hard on he always got when they sparred in training hadn’t just been down to having Harry sweaty and breathless above – or beneath – him. And Harry, always more than happy to indulge every one of Eggsy’s whims and finally stopped apologising, had grabbed the knowledge with both hands and they’d tumbled down the rabbit hole together.

 

Eggsy hears the tell-tale shift in Harry’s breathing and feels his fingers twitch against his cheek, but before Eggsy can enjoy the rush of Harry’s come down his throat, Harry’s pulling out, chest heaving with the effort of keeping it together. Eggsy whines sadly, his voice rough from the treatment, but Harry just drags him up to straddle him on the sofa with his hands firm on Eggsy’s biceps and kisses him with all the desperation of a drowning man, stealing the taste from his tongue and the very breath from Eggsy’s lungs. Harry slides his hand down the back of Eggsy’s jeans, fingers teasing along the crease of his arse, and Eggsy wriggles into the touch with a soft, pleading sound that gets lost in Harry’s mouth.

 

“Desperate little pup,” Harry breaks away to spit out, and Eggsy licks obscenely over Harry’s mouth and tongue in response. He almost laughs at how ridiculous it is, but the hungry look in Harry’s eyes gets him right in his core and chases away any amusement he might have felt. He always feels at war with himself when they play like this, wanting to rile Harry up, to push him and find out whether he’d fold or turn Eggsy over his knee. Eggsy’s cock throbs at the thought, but he can’t bring himself to misbehave when Harry is so obviously enamoured with him when he’s his  _good boy_. Not this time, anyway.

 

“Upstairs.” Harry murmurs, and Eggsy scrambles off his lap to obey, Harry’s quiet chuckle following him up the stairs.

 

Harry’s bed is far larger than it has any right to be, but Eggsy has never once called him on it, because it’s big enough that Harry can toss him around and they can grapple – if the mood takes them – rolling back and forth until one of them concedes without tumbling off the edge.

 

“Clothes off.” Harry says softly. Eggsy knows that tone of voice – Harry’s distracted, probably staring at the line of Eggsy’s back in his jeans. He takes his time undoing them, exaggerating his movements more than strictly required to flex the muscles in his back and give Harry something to watch as he undresses. The moment he’s done he hears Harry sigh quietly, and that will never get old – how Harry still thinks Eggsy is the most beautiful creature on the planet. Lo and behold, hands slide around Eggsy’s hips and Harry’s mouth brushes over his ear, his voice warm with affection.

 

“You are a marvel…” he murmurs, nipping Eggsy’s soft earlobe. His hands shift to cup Eggsy’s arse, smoothing over the flesh and squeezing it gently. “Utterly stunning...”

 

Eggsy hums happily and arches his back to push each point they’re touching closer. Harry has a tendency to slip out of the headspace he needs when Eggsy gets naked like this, because at heart Harry likes it sweet and slow when he’s in control, like a proper gentleman. He definitely likes it a little rougher too, Eggsy would fucking testify to that in court, but he always needs a little push in the right direction to find his way there.

 

“You gunna stick it to me, Harry?” He asks, being purposely crude because Harry’s a massive pervert really, and loves it when Eggsy talks like that. “Gunna shove me down and take what you want? Gunna make me scream?”

 

Harry’s groan rumbles against his back and Eggsy snags the lube from the bedside cabinet, flicking it open and holding it up over his shoulder in offering. Harry takes it without a word, but Eggsy hears him twist the top to activate the pump, and licks his lips.

 

“You want it hard, my boy?” Harry purrs, sending a shiver of delight down Eggsy’s spine.

 

Instead of behaving himself, Eggsy grins. “I want you to get on with it.” He says bluntly.

 

Harry’s answering growl is perfect, and Eggsy braces himself for a shove.

 

It never comes.

 

Instead, he feels pressure between his cheeks, then a sharp burst of blinding pain as Harry breaches him quickly. Eggsy cries out, tipping forwards onto the bed, and Harry goes with him, at least two lubed fingers buried to the hilt inside Eggsy’s body.

 

“ _Fuck_ -“ he bites out, the stretch and sting like nothing else they’ve done before.

 

“You wanted it hard,” Harry murmurs in his ear, voice soft and totally at odds with the way he’s shifting his fingers, probing deep with apparently no mind for how much Eggsy can handle.

 

“Harry-“

 

“Shush. You can take it,” Harry tells him, his tone leaving no room for argument. Eggsy whines and schools his breathing, focusing on the stretch instead of the burn as much as he can. He trusts Harry implicitly, Harry who knows his body better than Eggsy knows it himself, Harry who Eggsy would let hit him and choke him and risk his fucking  _life_  for. He  _can_ take it, and he will, because Harry wants him to, but  _fuck_ , it hurts like a bitch.

 

“Nngh…” Eggsy groans, getting a mouthful of duvet and biting down on it. Harry pulls his fingers back just enough to curl them over Eggsy’s prostate, sending a shock of pleasure straight up his spine and oh _, oh_ , that’s better. Eggsy’s groan of pain turns into a whine for more, his hips shifting into Harry’s touch, and he hears Harry chuckle behind him.

 

“There you go,” he murmurs, stroking with purpose now with one hand on the small of Eggsy’s back to steady him. It’s good, grounding, holding Eggsy’s focus while Harry takes him to pieces. “Good boy, Eggsy…”

 

Eggsy spits out the duvet and curses, his voice rough and broken. Fuck, it still hurts but pleasure keeps spiking hot and bright in his belly, chest, and in the tips of his fingers and toes, making them twitch restlessly.

 

“Harry-“ he chokes out, brow furrowed with the strain. “Harry,  _please_ … gimme it already, come onnn…”

 

Harry’s answering groan makes Eggsy’s toes curl, and he sighs out a long, breathy  _yes, Harry_ , when Harry replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his erection. He doesn’t want foreplay tonight, doesn’t want to mess around, doesn’t want to be teased until he’s begging or edged until he’s crying – all of which they’ve done before, and Eggsy has very fond memories of pressing his tears into Harry’s shoulder and kissing the salty skin after. Tonight, Eggsy wants to get  _fucked_ , good and proper, wants Harry to make him shout so loud they wake the neighbours, wants to see their fuddy duddy judgemental gazes tomorrow when Eggsy waves cheerfully to them over the fence while he’s still feeling the ache up his spine. Harry has either figured this out or wants the same - at heart, Harry is just as much of a filthy pervert as Eggsy and doesn’t have a shameful bone in his body; Eggsy knows just how much he delights in making the neighbours squirm while he wears that heart-stoppingly polite smile of his – because he digs his fingers tight into Eggsy’s hips and lifts Eggsy’s feet from the floor so he can’t even brace himself for it. Harry’s stronger than he looks, too. He’s tall, especially to a midget like Eggsy, and slender, all long lines in his suit, but hiding wiry muscles that make hauling Eggsy around a breeze. It’s like it’s no effort at all for him to hold Eggsy up as he plants his feet and starts to push,  _hard_ , Eggsy hanging prone and able to do nothing but take it. Even dripping with lubricant like he is, it’s still a stretch, still burns and stings even more than his fingers had because Harry’s fingers might be thicker than Eggsy’s but two of them definitely aren’t equivalent to the impressive girth of his cock. He pushes slowly at first, wedging Eggsy open wider and wider until Eggsy’s sure he can’t take any more, until he’s  _this close_  to tapping out and safewording, and then, when the thickest part of his head is almost there, Harry holds on tight and kicks his hips, and before Eggsy realises it’s happening, Harry is in and sliding all the way down, over his prostate and his insides until he’s fully seated and Eggsy is clenching around him in surprise.

 

 _“Oh_ ,” he sighs, pressing his forehead into the sheets with his mouth hanging wide. Fuck,  _fuck_ , he’s full. Eggsy had never been much of a taker before, but Harry had opened his eyes – and the rest of him, obviously – to how fucking  _good_ it can be. When they’d first started screwing around, sleeping together, fucking, whatever they didn’t call it, Eggsy had been on top, and soon realised he’d never been with anyone quite like Harry before. Harry took it like a fucking pro,  _better_  than a pro, because Eggsy’d never even seen someone enjoying it as much as Harry did in fucking porn _,_ where they were being  _paid_  to enjoy it. It had taken him a while to work up the courage to ask about it, about why Harry loved it so much,  _how_ he loved it so much, but when he had Harry had just laughed warmly and called Eggsy  _my boy_  and promised to show him, one day. He’d let the promise hang tantalisingly between them for a good few weeks, until Eggsy’s own mind was going crazy wondering when and how Harry was going to do something, and only when Eggsy was on the verge of giving in and pleading for it did Harry do anything, as if he  _knew_  how much it had been playing on Eggsy’s mind the whole time. He’d worked Eggsy up to it slowly, making him lay still whilst Harry all but worshipped him, kissing him slow and languid, mouthing down his neck and lavishing his nipples with attention, leaving little love bites in a trail down Eggsy’s sternum and teasing at his navel with his tongue. Before he got anywhere near his cock, Harry had turned him over and treated his back to the same attention all the way down to the curve of his arse, and Eggsy had held himself steady for such a long time that by the time Harry got his tongue between Eggsy’s cheeks, instead of the discomfort he was used to feeling, it was something like relief that flowed through him. Harry had eaten him out for fucking  _hours_ , working him up and letting him rest, sharing sips of water from the same glass before delving back in again, over and over until Eggsy was clutching the pillow beneath his head and crying out with little, choked sobs that got stuck in his throat. His dick was confused to say the least, because it felt so, so good but he struggled to stay hard, the pleasure not hitting the same spot as he was used to, but it didn’t seem to matter to Harry because he just carried on licking Eggsy open, using his tongue and nothing else to feel out each tiny furl of skin and work Eggsy through the overstimulation and past it, out the other side into such a state of utter relaxation that he was all but melting into the sheets before Harry’s fingers went anywhere near him. Eggsy had hardly even felt the first one, at least until Harry had curled it towards his prostate and Eggsy had practically flown out of his skin. That day, Harry had made him come with only a single finger inside him and his mouth warm around his cock, gently massaging the orgasm from him, and Eggsy had begun to understand. Over time, Harry had worked him up to more fingers, and eventually, his cock, teaching Eggsy how good it could feel to be stretched, showing him how to enjoy the burn and the lingering ache even if his prostate wasn’t involved right away, and Eggsy had flourished under the older man’s attentions. Now, sometimes, he  _wanted_  it like that, relished it when it hurt enough that he could feel it the next day, got off hard on Harry taking him with minimal prep and more force than was strictly necessary.

 

Times like right now, with Harry buried to the hilt and hanging on tight, his thighs tense and his cock twitching inside Eggsy’s body. He’d made Eggsy come like that before too, hauled him up into his arms with his front to Eggsy’s back and his dick as deep as it could get, held him tight and stayed perfectly still while he’d jerked Eggsy off and made him come around Harry’s dick. He’d let Eggsy ride it out, body clenching and fluttering around him until he’d sunk back down to earth again, and only then, with Eggsy sated and over-sensitive had Harry actually fucked him. Eggsy can’t think of a time he’s ever been louder than that, screeching and shouting and  _fuck, Harry-_ ing, unable to stop himself if his life had depended on it.

 

“Please-“ Eggsy spits into the bed sheets, his toes shifting restlessly. “C’mon, Harry,  _fuck_ me already...”

 

“That’s my boy,” Harry purrs, and Eggsy can hear the smile in his voice. He always does love it when Eggsy uses his manners – which is probably why, normally, Eggsy makes a concerted effort  _not_  to, to rile Harry into pushing him around a little bit. Not now, though, because Harry knows exactly how Eggsy wants it and he gives it to him, pulling out and filling him again in one smooth, practised thrust that becomes two, three, and Harry settles into a bruising pace that leaves Eggsy gasping for breath, his body rocking hard enough with each thrust that he has no hope of getting himself upright. He lets Harry screw him  into the mattress, arse high in Harry’s grip with the blood rushing towards his head and making it spin deliciously, mouth hanging open with every cry that is being quite literally fucked from his throat.

 

“Ha- _rry…_ ” Eggsy exclaims, eyes squeezed tightly closed. “Ah-  _ah_ , nngh, shit… ohh shit… fuh- fuck  _me_ … oh Jesus, fuck me… nnh…” His cock is hanging heavy between his thighs, throbbing and desperate for some kind of friction, leaking and oozing precome with every roll of Harry’s dick over his prostate. Eggsy gasps and presses his cheek harder into the pillow, rubbing against it like it might help just to feel like he had some kind of control over something. He needs to move, to help, he feels like he's going to writhe out of his skin but all he can do is hang from Harry’s broad hands and clutch the sheets, getting them wet with spit because he can’t even close his mouth. He feels so full, stretched to breaking point over and over again every time Harry fucks into him with all the force of a fucking freight train, and as much as Eggsy feels like his body can’t take it for a second more, he never wants it to end. The over stimulation is like nothing else, pushing him right to the edge to where pain blurs with pleasure and past it, Harry’s brutal thrusts hurting like a bitch but still Eggsy is leaking and twitching and feeling that hot, twisting pleasure building low in his gut and settling heavy on the back of his tongue.

 

“Oh shit-“ he swears, toes curling in mid-air. “Harry- ahh,  _Harry_ , fuck m’close, oh please,  _please_ , Harry, Harry please, fuck, oh fuck-“ He's going to come, somehow, without Harry even laying a finger on his dick, Jesus Christ. The pleasure just keeps building and building, higher than Eggsy's used to until it's too much, too strong, and he can’t, he was wrong, fuck, he can't do it, it's too much, oh God, too much, no, too-

 

With a guttural yell, Eggsy’s body tenses all at once from head to toe and everything explodes into white. He bucks in Harry’s hold, spilling heavily onto the sheets, each rope of come accompanied by another rough cry. Harry fucks him through it, grinding deep now instead of pounding him so that Eggsy has something to clench around, and as he begins to come back to himself, feeling tears on his cheeks, Eggsy feels Harry lose it with a soft grunt, warmth spreading inside him the way he’s grown to love since the first time he’d felt Harry come inside him.

 

“Fuck.” Eggsy whispers, his voice coming out rough and gravelly. His body continues to shudder with aftershocks even as his dick protests that it's too much, and he clenches tightly around Harry to keep him inside just a little longer.

 

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, his voice as warm and sweet as honey. “Quite.” He lowers Eggsy gently to the bed, settling him down just to the side of the impressive spread of his come, if Eggsy does say so himself, then follows him, keeping their hips pressed tightly together so that he won’t slip out before Eggsy's ready for him to go.

 

“You are quite the specimen,” Harry murmurs, brushing gentle kisses over Eggsy’s shoulders and the back of his neck.

 

Eggsy huffs with tired laughter and leans his head to the side, inviting Harry’s kisses up towards his throat, then sighs happily when the older man obliges him without hesitation.

 

“You better check in wiv’ me tomorrow when you get to wherever Merlin’s sendin’ you this time,” he says. The location and purpose of Harry’s mission is classified, of course, but he’ll be able to fill Eggsy in on the details once it's all over and filed away in the archives.

 

Harry kisses just below his ear and tilts Eggsy’s chin up a little higher to reach his mouth over his shoulder.

 

“Mmhmm. And whenever I have a moment’s downtime.” It's familiar now, this little back-and-forth, based on being sent on countless missions separately and spending days wondering whether the other was even still alive. Merlin is brilliant, he but flatly refuses to talk about other missions whilst they are still in progress, and he's always careful to stay on-topic whilst giving them their own instructions in their earpieces. 

 

"Good." Eggsy says simply, then grins mischievously. He unwinds his arm from Harry's neck to ask quickly, "Who's makin' the cuppa?" then rushes to press his fingertip to his nose so that it won't be him.

 

Harry rolls his eyes but it's with a fond smile, and he kisses Eggsy's finger. "One day I'll beat you to that, you know." 

 

Eggsy just beams, because they both know that's bullshit; if he really wanted to, Harry could beat him to it every single time.

 

 

 


End file.
